Psychosis
by Ourliazo
Summary: In between the large scale battles and the mass murder, Jorg takes to killing individuals. Sometimes it's nice to take a bit longer, pretend he's a patient man, watch the hope bleed from them like blood before he even cuts into flesh.


Title: Psychosis

Summary: In between the large scale battles and the mass murder, Jorg takes to killing individuals. Sometimes it's nice to just take a bit longer, pretend he's a patient man, watch the hope bleed from them like blood before he even cuts into flesh.

.

* * *

Madness is something you don't know you have until it's gone.

So, really, Jorg can't objectively state whether Sir Makin is right or wrong in labelling Jorg as mad. It was meant as a jest, light hearted teasing over the still warm corpses and the faint sound of screaming.

Jorg contemplates insanity as the small farming village burns behinds him.

He dismisses the thoughts as unimportant and leaves Makin to his feasting, heading off to find a nice, desperate young man to play with. Jorg looks for fighters when he needs something to entertain him.

There's only so many ways people can beg for their lives before it becomes monotonous.

* * *

The topic of madness arises a few months later, mid-battle in fact, as Jorg sinks his teeth into an apple and his men call out insults, heckling Sim as he weaves around a lone wanderer.

Sim darts in and out, leaving the opponent with paper cuts that make the wanderer look like finely diced vegetables about to be thrown into a stew. The man is angry and vicious and landing his fair share of blows, but his bare hands do nothing but irritate Sim.

Is that madness? Pathetically clinging to the last dredges of hope, struggling when it would be so much easier to crumble? Jorg doesn't have that kind of self-imposed delusion. No, he knows when he's been beaten, when fighting would just prolong the pain and humiliation.

Although, to be completely honest, he doesn't remember ever encountering such a situation. Jorg has faced low odds before, has stared into his father's eye as a dog burned, but that isn't defeat. That is simply fuel, a memory to keep and treasure because one day Jorg will show his cards and he will reply with sevenfold the original intent. It is not defeat when the game is still being played.

Jorg will introduce his new dogs and his father will feel teeth.

Sim finally drops the wanderer with a cut to the abdomen, deep enough that the innards spill to the dirt road as the stranger groans and shudders, hands shaking as they try to push it all back it. The rest applaud mockingly and call for another show.

It will be a long and painful death.

* * *

Now this. This is insanity.

"Stop playing with the dead fish and come over here," Jorg calls out.

Rike looks almost guilty as he lowers the fish skewered on his knife, having been waving it in Red Kent's face mockingly since the man despises sea food.

"What is it?" Grumlow calls out, pausing in sharpening his blade.

"The Nuban has found something interesting," Jorg explains, looking back out of the window at the dark shadow that approaches, dragging another thrashing figure behind.

That's when it all goes to shit. The doors and windows are kicked in and the stolen house is over run by men and women with blades so sharp you could split a hair with. Jorg leaps up from his seat, grabs the chair and brings it down on one attacker's head hard enough that the furniture shatters.

There's a short pause as the intruder crumples and then Jorg's brothers are laughing as they throw themselves at the attackers, hacking and slashing with glee because they very rarely get a proper fight. You'd have to be pretty damn mad to face off against Jorg. Insults are hurled, mostly between the marry band of mass murderers, and somehow the house catches on fire.

An hour later, as Grumlow arranges the bodies in front of the burning building to spell a rude word, Jorg finally remembers the crest embedded into the attackers' swords. Well, okay, the man he's torturing finally reveals who owns the crest, but it's practically the same thing.

"Please, please, pleasepleasepleaseplease-"

Jorg rolls his eyes at the man sobbing and with a flick of his wrist he lands another knife in the attacker's other collarbone.

The assassin chokes out a pained cry and shudders. "Let me go," he tries desperately. "I know where they are, I'll bring you back their heart, but for fucks sake let me go or kill me."

"Heart?" Jorg murmurs. "I don't just want their heart, I want the whole fucking meal."

Barely heard over the crowing laughter of Jorg's brothers, the assassin spits out a mouthful of blood and calls Jorg mad. He calls Jorg _diseased_ and _filthy_ and _sick_ and _disgustingly twisted_.

"Am I mad?" Jorg demands of his men.

"Of course you are," Red Kent calls out. "We wouldn't follow you if you weren't."

"That's right," Jorg hums, turning his attention back to the man at his feet. "Madness fights like she fucks and it's the best damn death you could ever have."

Jorg plunges his blade into the man's lung, because the poor thing deserves death but not a quick one.

* * *

.

A/N: It would be longer but I've forgotten everything about the trilogy.


End file.
